


Pour Some Sugar on Me

by FriendofCarlotta



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartender Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Dates, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, Jealous Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Minor Dean Winchester/others - Freeform, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25294969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendofCarlotta/pseuds/FriendofCarlotta
Summary: Dean's favorite place to take his dates is the one with the cute bartender, Cas. Because if the date's a bust, at least Dean can hang out with Cas after. Here's the thing though: every time Dean comes by with a date, Cas ends up spilling a drink on him and the night gets cut short. The first time was an accident, but after the third time, Dean thinks he might be missing something...
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 40
Kudos: 400





	Pour Some Sugar on Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ratafia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratafia/gifts).



> This bit of fluff was inspired by a prompt on the Profound Bond Discord server, which is a wacky, wonderful place for people who care too much (the right amount?) about Dean and Cas. You should definitely [join us](https://discord.gg/profoundbond).
> 
> Thanks so much to my awesome beta, [tiamatv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiamatv/pseuds/tiamatv), who takes my words and makes them better. She's also a terrific writer herself, so give her fics a look!
> 
> That's all from me - enjoy!

Dean doesn’t consider himself a subtle guy when it comes to flirting. If he’s interested in someone, he tells them so.

He tells a lot of people so. 

Guys or chicks, he’s not picky. More often than not, they’re into it, and the whole thing ends with a night of fun for everyone involved.

That’s all it ever is, though: one night. And, to be honest, he’s on the wrong side of thirty-five now, so he’s thinking about slowing down a little.

Maybe it’s time he gave actual dating a try.

Which is how he finds himself one Friday night at Lawrence Beer Company, waiting for Lisa, the hot yoga instructor who brought her car in for repairs a couple of days ago.

She needed her carburetor replaced and didn’t like how expensive it was going to be, but Dean explained to her exactly why the repair was needed, and she actually listened. All the while, he noticed, she was twirling her long, dark hair around her finger and generally giving him a sort of once-over. So he asked her out on a whim.

Going to Lawrence Beer Company was his suggestion. It’s not so much that he likes the atmosphere, which is a little too on-the-nose post-industrial for him, with the exposed piping, steel support beams and garage-style roll-up windows. If he wants to feel like he’s at an auto shop, he can get that at work, thanks very much.

No, the real reason he likes coming here is called Castiel — Cas for short — and he works the bar on Fridays and Saturdays. Dean knows this because whenever he comes in to cruise for a hookup, he tries to catch a minute or two to chat with Cas.

Usually, Cas is pretty busy. But early in his shift, before the rush starts, Cas will sometimes hang out in the general vicinity of Dean’s barstool to make conversation. That’s how Dean learned that Cas is the youngest of five brothers and tends bar to earn extra money while he’s getting his PhD in Ecology and Evolutionary Biology at KU. Cas feels like he’s too old to go to college parties, so he doesn’t mind losing his weekend nights.

Then there’s the other thing about Cas: He’s pretty much the hottest guy Dean has ever seen. Just about six feet tall, slim but muscular, with a runner’s build. His hair is dark and messy, sitting atop a stunning pair of blue eyes and a perpetual case of 5 o’clock shadow. And those lips… Dean’s not a poet, but  _ someone  _ should really write a poem about how damn kissable those lips are.

So, yeah. He might be into Cas. 

But he’s complimented the guy and winked at him more times than he can count. He’s dropped hints about running into each other at a different bar. Once, he even scrawled his phone number on the back of a receipt before he gave it back to Cas. 

Again, Dean’s not subtle.

And yet — nothing. Nada. Zip.

When Dean spots Lisa coming in through the front door and waves at her from the table he’s snagged — within easy view of the bar — he considers that maybe it’s a little weird, taking his date to a place mostly because the bartender is hot. 

But hey, there’s nothing wrong with a backup plan, right? If the date’s a bust, at least he can go talk to Cas after.

***

The date is not a bust.

Lisa’s fun and easy to talk to. She orders a hard seltzer, which Dean considers a little weird at a brewery, but he’s forgiven worse faults.

A waitress takes the order for their drinks, but it’s Cas who brings them over from the bar. Dean watches as Cas approaches their table, looking down at something on the tray, probably to check he’s got the right table number.

Which, Dean figures, is why Cas doesn’t spot the strap of Lisa’s purse on the floor next to her chair. 

Long story short, just as Cas looks up and his eyes meet Dean’s, his foot gets caught in the strap. He catches himself before he pitches face-first onto their table, but there’s no hope for the drinks.

Between one split-second and the next, Dean’s shirt and pants are soaked with a pungent mix of IPA and grapefruit-flavored seltzer.

Lisa looks like she’s fighting a smile, but Cas’ face is frozen in an expression of complete shock that would be pretty funny if Dean weren’t sopping wet.

After gaping for another second, Cas springs into action. “I am so, so sorry, Dean.” He tucks his serving tray under his arm and picks up one of the cloth napkins on the table, dabbing at the top of Dean’s shirt and blushing furiously when his efforts fail to make any difference whatsoever. “Um. If you don’t mind coming to the back with me, I can get you a towel?”

Dean’s trying to decide whether he’s more amused at Cas’ obvious embarrassment or annoyed at the fact that he’ll probably have to cut the date short so he can go home and change. Either way, he shrugs and follows Cas out of the dining area, down a dim corridor, and into some kind of staff locker room. 

Cas opens one of the lockers near the back and produces a big, fluffy towel from a gym bag. He gives Dean a little half-smile, still looking a little pink around the cheeks. “I didn’t get a chance to go to the gym today, so it’s clean.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says, shaking his head in exasperation, but also grinning as he towels himself off. “This is better, but I’m probably still gonna have to go home and change.”

“I really am sorry, Dean,” Cas repeats as he takes back the towel and drapes it over a small wooden bench next to the lockers.

“It’s fine, Cas.” Dean’s surprised to find that he means it, and that his earlier annoyance has almost completely evaporated. “It was an accident.”

Cas nods gratefully, and then he just kind of  _ looks _ at Dean. Not in any particularly intrusive way or anything. He just… looks. Dean can stand to be on the receiving end of that for about ten seconds before he starts to shuffle his feet, trying to figure out a good exit strategy.

“I’ll just—” He points at the doorway at his back, and Cas nods again, but just as Dean turns to go, he hears, “Are you on a date?”

Dean pivots to face Cas again. “Yeah. Why?”

“Oh. It’s just, I never see you date,” Cas mumbles, seeming very interested in his slightly scuffed black dress shoes.

Before he answers, Dean takes a moment to appreciate how nicely Cas’ white button-down shirt sets off the subtle tan of his skin, and how his indigo suit pants really bring out the blue of his eyes. “Um, yeah. Trying something new, I guess.”

“Oh,” Cas says, finally turning his attention away from his shoes and back to Dean’s face. “OK.”

“OK,” Dean parrots, feeling more awkward than ever.

Cas doesn’t say anything else, so Dean heads back to his table, and to his date with Lisa. Lisa’s still great to hang out with, but the easy, fun energy from earlier never really comes back, and it just feels like there’s something missing. Also, Dean’s clothes are still pretty damp and sticky.

A little over an hour later, Dean parks in Lisa’s driveway and turns off the engine, but when she leans in, he settles for kissing her on the cheek. She asks if they can do it again, and Dean just grunts noncommittally, which Lisa seems to take in stride.

“No hard feelings,” she says and, with a warm smile, walks off into the night.

*** 

Jo is a really good friend, most of the time. (Except for when she thinks Dean’s being a dumbass about something, which happens surprisingly often. Then she’s just  _ mean _ .)

Anyway, she’s known Dean longer than anyone other than his little brother Sammy, so when she decides she should get to pick Dean’s next date, he trusts her to get it right.

Bad move.

The guy, Ash, has a fucking mullet, which Dean could probably get over, but before they can even so much as shake hands, Dean smells the thick miasma of weed around him. It’s not like Dean’s never indulged, but that was fifteen years ago, for God’s sake. He’s closing in on forty. He’s too damn old to be dating potheads.

It only gets worse from there. As soon as they sit down, Ash starts talking Dean’s ear off about government conspiracies and goes into an alarming amount of detail about databases he’s hacked into. It’s got to be five kinds of illegal, but amazingly, it also manages to make for a really, really dull conversation.

Dean’s got his head propped up on one of his hands and his eyelids are starting to feel pretty heavy when he spots his savior in the form of Cas, approaching the table with a couple of cold beers on a tray.

Cas catches his eye as he gets closer and gives this weird, slow blink that makes him look a little like a confused owl. Dean sits up, frowning at Cas, who’s now got an expression on his face that can only be described as “conspiratorial.” It’s just starting to dawn on Dean that Cas was trying to  _ wink _ at him... when Cas stumbles.

Suddenly, Dean’s drenched in cold beer from head to toe.

“Holy crap, Cas,” Dean huffs. “What are you going for, some kind of record?”

“I’m so, so sorry, Dean,” Cas says, putting on a repeat performance of the napkin-dabbing attempt that didn’t work last time. Unlike last time, though, he doesn’t look even slightly embarrassed, which adds fuel to Dean’s theory that Cas  _ meant _ to spill the drinks.

Just like he did the previous weekend, Cas suggests they head to the back for a towel. As soon as they get to the locker room, Cas turns on Dean with a triumphant smile on his face. “You’re welcome.”

Ah, there it is. Confirmation. “You did that on purpose?”

Cas shrugs, and he does look a little embarrassed now. “I thought you might be in need of rescue.”

Dean’s mouth opens and closes at least three times before he regains the ability to form actual words. “You thought…” Dean’s first instinct is to be pissed off. After all, he’s, once again, completely soaked. But mostly, he’s happy he had an excuse to get away from Ash and their boring-ass conversation. He’d much rather be back here, chatting with Cas.

“You know what?” Dean says eventually, grinning. “Good call. Just, next time — can we work out a system or something? Like, you could give me your number, and if I ever need you to get me out of a bad date again, I’ll shoot you a text.” He curses himself inwardly, because he can actually feel his face heating up. Men his age don’t blush, dammit.

Except he’s pretty sure Cas is about the same age as him, and he’s blushing pretty furiously right now too. “Yeah,” Cas says, scratching nervously at one of his forearms, which are nicely on display because he’s rolled up his shirtsleeves tonight for some reason. “Yeah, we could do that.”

When Dean gets home that night, it’s with two things: a firm conviction that he never wants to see that Ash guy again and a spring in his step, because at least he walked away with a hot guy’s number.

***

Five days later, Dean still hasn’t worked up the nerve to actually text Cas. He’s kind of shot himself in the foot with the whole “I’ll text you in case of emergency” ruse, because they never agreed that they could just text each other randomly, without a reason.

So when this rugged, muscular guy with a salt-and-pepper beard walks up to Dean at the coffee shop where he likes to get his morning fix and asks him out, Dean agrees. The guy, Benny, actually looks pretty good,  _ and  _ he’s got nice blue eyes, like Cas.

It turns out that, out of Dean’s three recent attempts at dating, Benny is by far the best. They’re both into classic cars and they both have knife collections. Benny’s easy to talk to and he can take a joke. Their first round of drinks arrives. Dean’s a little surprised that Cas isn’t the one who brought them over, even though he’s working the bar as always.

Dean tries to catch Cas’ eye, thinking he’ll let Cas know that he’s not in need of rescuing tonight. But it turns out to be surprisingly hard to get Cas to look over, even when Dean gives a little wave to attract his attention.

Dean turns back to Benny after that and gets lost in their conversation. They order another round of drinks, and Dean starts to lean across the table a little bit, turning up the charm. That’s probably why he doesn’t even notice Cas until he’s right next to the table, white-knuckling a serving tray with two beers on it. Dean leans back and gives Cas a warm smile, which he doesn’t return.

“Your drinks,” Cas says flatly. His blue eyes narrow as they zero in on Dean’s face, very deliberately holding eye contact as he lifts one of the beers off the tray and pours it onto Dean’s shirt.

Cas shoves the remaining beer at Benny and turns on his heel, stalking off toward where Dean now knows the locker room to be.

“Um.” Dean looks back at Benny, who seems equal parts entertained and confused. “Not totally sure what that was about.”

Benny gives a low, rumbling chuckle. “You sure, brother? Seems like you and that bartender guy got some issues to work out.”

“Huh.” Dean’s still at a loss as to what’s going on, but he nods. “Yeah, I guess I’ll go see what’s got his panties in a twist. I’ll settle up after, and maybe we can try this again sometime?”

Benny shoots him a sly half-smile as he gets off his chair and gathers up his coat. “Don’t get me wrong, I had fun, but I won’t hold my breath about hearing from you, considering what just went down.”

Before Benny’s even all the way out the door, Dean’s out of his seat and stalking to the back room. Sure enough, there’s Cas, looking ridiculously attractive in navy-blue slacks and a matching waistcoat over his usual white dress shirt. He’s massaging the knuckles of his right hand and there’s a dent in one of the lockers. Dean thinks one might have something to do with the other.

Basically, even though he’s the one who got drenched, Dean feels weirdly like he’s in the wrong here.

“Soooo.” Not a great start. Try again. “I get the feeling you were trying to send me some kind of message.”

“Very perceptive of you,” Cas growls, still rubbing his knuckles and refusing to meet Dean’s eyes.

“Mind telling me what I did?” Dean asks, taking a careful step closer to Cas. “’Cause I gotta say, Cas, I’m a little lost here.”

Cas turns his eyes to the ceiling, visibly praying for patience. “You come here for months, flirting with everything that moves, including me.”

“You noticed that?” At the question, Cas’ head snaps toward Dean, who immediately feels some very ill-timed butterflies erupt in his stomach. Anger is a good look on Cas. “It’s just, um. You never acted all that interested.”

“I  _ wasn’t _ interested in becoming another one of your hookups. It’s not really my style,” Cas growls, crossing his arms and leaning back against the lockers. “But then you came in here with that woman, and you said you were trying to date now.” He’s visibly warming to his subject matter, voice rising as he talks and eyebrows drawing together. “I thought, maybe if it didn’t work out between you and your date, you’d give  _ me  _ a chance. Then you came in for another date and I figured you looked bored, so maybe I’d try to get you out of it and also get you alone so we could talk.” Cas blows out a heavy breath and kicks the locker behind him in frustration. “I was ecstatic when you asked for my number, because I figured you were, you know,  _ asking for my number _ . For a whole damn week, I waited to hear from you, but next thing I know, you’re here on  _ yet another _ date with someone else.”

Cas pushes off the lockers and turns to face Dean, lips pursed and eyes blazing. He looks  _ magnificent _ . “You can see now why I’m frustrated.”

“I can,” Dean admits with a careful glance at Cas. He feels like one wrong move could land him in even more trouble than he’s already in. “And I didn’t mean to be a dick. I honestly didn’t know you were even interested. Just, if you don’t mind me saying, you could’ve maybe been a little more mature about getting your message across.” He gestures pointedly at his wet front. “Kinda running out of shirts without funny stains on them.”

Cas visibly deflates. “I’m sorry, Dean. I’m usually in better control of my temper.”

“It’s OK,” Dean mumbles, shuffling his feet. “We just… apparently both suck at communicating.”

Cas tilts his head at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve been wanting to ask you out for ages.” Dean shrugs. “I figured you’d say ‘no’ because I kept flirting with you and not getting a response.”

“Oh.” After a beat, Cas adds, “I would’ve said yes.”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, I’m getting that now. Can I kiss you?” That last part is out of his mouth before his brain has a chance to catch up.

In lieu of an answer, Cas strides across the room, like some kind of big cat stalking its prey, and pushes Dean against the nearest wall.

The first touch of their mouths is hard and messy, and the angle’s all wrong, but after a second, Cas tilts his head, and… there it is. Cas’ soft, dry lips move against Dean’s like they were always meant to do just that.

They push and pull at each other, Cas taking control of the kiss first — until Dean brings up a hand and fists it in Cas’ hair. With a low moan, Cas melts into him.

Dean grabs hold of Cas’ hips and turns them until Cas is the one with his back against the wall. Nearly mindless with how good it feels to slide his tongue in between Cas’ plush, waiting lips, Dean rolls his hips, grinding the growing bulge in his jeans against Cas’ crotch.

Cas is very obviously hard in his slacks, and the sensation of their erections moving against each other sends a jolt of arousal straight to Dean’s groin. Dean turns Cas’ head with a gentle push of his thumb against his chin, then starts kissing down the stubbled column of Cas’ throat. Dean grinds forward again, reveling in the choked-off groan he gets in response.

“Castiel?”

“Oh, fuck.” At the sound of a shrill voice echoing from the corridor outside, Cas pushes Dean off and swipes frantically at his own hair, which is standing up in all directions thanks to Dean’s efforts. “It’s my supervisor, Naomi.”

Before either Cas or Dean can do much more than angle themselves so the fronts of their pants aren’t visible from the door, a middle-aged woman with a pinched expression sticks her head into the room. She looks them both up and down with open disapproval.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt your little tryst, Castiel, but if you’d like to keep your job, I suggest you get back to work within the next five minutes. I _ will _ get a bucket of ice water and drench you both with it, if that’s what it takes.”

With that, she sweeps off down the corridor. 

Dean tries hard to fight the hysterical laughter bubbling up inside him, but it’s a losing battle. Before long, he’s doubled over, hiccuping and trying to catch his breath.

“Dean. It’s not funny,” Cas says darkly, but when Dean looks up, wiping at his eyes, Cas’ lips are twitching. By the time Dean’s gotten his breath back, Cas is the one doubled over, shaking with helpless laughter. Which, of course, sets Dean off again.

Naomi’s five-minute warning is almost up by the time they’ve both calmed down.

“So… if I were to text you as soon as I get home and put on a dry shirt…?” Dean asks, still grinning so hard it’s making his face hurt.

“Just to be clear, this time,” Cas says flatly, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re going to text me because you want to ask me out, correct?”

Dean can’t resist — he leans forward and plants a big, wet kiss straight on Cas’ lips. “Correct. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

Dean smirks. “You only get a second date if my shirt’s still dry by the end of the night.”

***

Cas gets a second date. And a third, and a fourth. That fourth time, Dean’s shirt does get wet again, but it’s because he gets jostled trying to get a drink from the bar, and he still goes home with Cas after.

Dean keeps going to Lawrence Beer Company every weekend, but he doesn’t go looking for dates or hookups anymore. He goes so he can sit at the bar and flirt with the hot bartender.

Sometimes, people come up to Dean and ask if they can buy him a drink. 

Dean’s answer is always the same. With a wink and a grin at Cas, he’ll say, “I wouldn’t, if I were you. My boyfriend’s been known to pour drinks on people when he gets jealous.”

It never fails to make Cas blush.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you liked what you saw, this needy writer would really appreciate your kudos, and especially your comments! 
> 
> You can also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://friendofcarlotta.tumblr.com).


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